Fog of War
by Damon Howe
Summary: Sometimes, in the midst of battle where chaos reigns supreme, the greatest "fog" isn't the number of enemy forces...its the heart of the soldier on the lines.
1. Prologue Ch 1: Sun Rays and Night Skies

"Fog of War"

Prologue Chapter 1: _**Sun Rays and Night Skies**_

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><p>Sunlight.<p>

It was blinding, brilliant and beautiful. It filled the landscape with hope, warmth, affection. It threw away the darkest seeds of mankind, and bathed the world in its everlasting glow. Nothing could escape its radiance, save for the darkest cave or the deepest ocean trench, where the scourge of the earth writhed and cursed its existence. James shielded his eyes as he gazed at the perfect circle encased in a magnificent glory as it started to sink over the horizon, winking at him through the branches of the tall Oran Berry bush he was laying beneath.

He really did hate the damn sun.

For all its warmth, the sun also brought visibility; the sun never did like its earthly subjects shying away from it. It encased them all, and in doing so, revealed them all to the world they lived in. And for James, being revealed to the world – or in this case, the enemy base not two miles down the hill from his position – meant only 1 thing: a bullet right between his eyes.

_"Tango-Charlie-Alpha, this is Tango-Delta-Alpha. We are cradling the monkey, over." _James shook off his rambling thoughts as he listened to the radio-speak. He always hated that earpiece he had on, like many other things. The way it blared into his eardrums no matter how low he turned the volume always startled him, and if that little speaker in his ear didn't alert an enemy to his position, the occasional jump it gave him certainly would.

There's been more than one mission where that had nearly screwed him over.

_"Tango-Charlie-Alpha, please confirm. Duck, you awake out there?" _James sighed and pressed the mike on his neck, pausing a sec to respond. "_Tango-Delta-Alpha this is Tango-Charlie-Alpha, I read you loud and clear. The Duck will crotch-kick the monkey at 0300 hours."_

A noticeable pause held over the speakers before a different voice called out over the radio. _"Roger Charlie, you'll get your shot. All teams are in position, ETA 1500 hours. Alpha Out." "Charlie Out."_

James heard a snicker to his left as soon as he keyed off the mike. It was quickly followed by three more, two on his right and one on a ledge just below him. Of course, all of the radio-speak was hogwash to confuse the enemy. The team's had their codes helping protect what important information passed through the airwaves, and the rest…well, the rest was the reason why none of the 3rd Platoon could ever be taken seriously out on the field.

"I'm not sure if Smith is laughing or crying right about now." That snickering whisper came from his right; probably Private Jefferson, the rookie on the 5-man team. He was a late addition to the newly formed Special Intelligence Ops Task Force, as Charlie Company, of which they were a part of, had decided to go from four-man teams to five-man teams. No one really knew what difference this would make, though many speculated that it was just another reason to recruit more young blood into a growing military.

"A little of both," came the humorless reply from below. That was Specialist Brett, the second in command of the team. James rolled his eyes at this, for though Brett sounded completely stern he knew Brett was wearing a grin that could rival an Electrode's.

"Alright, enough you two. We have a serious mission here, it's the last one before we're released. Let's keep our head in the game and not on what I'm going to do to Sergeant Smith's balls after this for blaring my nick over the radio."

Snickering confirmations echoed around him, and James pressed his hand to his forehead to quell the growing headache. _Can't they ever take anything s-_

"Look alive! Patrol at our eight!"

The whisper was hardly a breath on the wind, but James managed to catch every word. That came from his left, Specialist Conner. James always had to give him props, for despite all the distractions in the world –and there were plenty in this group– that man could still hear a pin drop across a mall on Black Friday.

…That or he had his Sneasel out to cover for him so he was free to lollygag.

James looked over his shoulder. Through the twisting branches of the Oran bush, James could just make out the feathered left ear of Conner's Sneasel. _Bastard. Lazy on the job again._

James turned his head ever so slowly to look for the patrol. He couldn't see them through the brush, but slowly and surely he could hear voices. One…Three? No…Six. A six man patrol at least. _Let's just hope they don't have-_ A loud bark echoed beyond his sight, and quickly all six men in the patrol stopped talking and listened. _-…fuck. It HAD to be a Mightyena._ James froze, knowing everyone else would do the same. He listened hard, not hearing anything for a full minute; though for the team it felt like an hour.

Snap.

One of the morons had stepped on a twig, not 15 yards behind them. They were closing in, and fast.

Knowing he risked being spotted at this point, James methodically moved his right hand and brought it over his head in a sweeping motion, performing the action twice before resting it on the back of his neck. Two seconds passed before an incredibly good smell filled his nostrils, becoming even more intoxicating by the second.

James sighed in relief. Mark, or at least his Skiploom, had gotten the message. As the Sweet Scent filled the air, he heard behind him the startled, pleasant groans of the enemy patrol. The Mightyena barked in resistance, before finally falling to the alluring scent as well. Just as soon as the smell had filled his nose it vanished, and James noticed with great satisfaction that the Sweet Scent was moving; away from them. He realized that this must be the special touch of Jefferson's Ralts, using his Confusion to push the Sweet Scent, and the patrol, away from them. It wasn't long before the patrol followed, and soon enough they were gone.

James waited until Jefferson gave the "All-Clear" signal – a catcall – before releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Looking to his left and right, he could feel rather than see that all eyes were on him now. Even Brett, who had been out of sight, had crawled up from his position to get the new orders.

James took another deep breath. _At least they're serious now._ He looked to them one more time to make sure they were all watching before covering his mouth, then fanning his hand out, palm against the ground, and wrapping it up by covering his eyes and flashing four fingers. Everyone nodded, and turned back to observe their target.

_Just four more hours...Just four more hours…_

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><p><em>Location: Somewhere near an enemy base<br>__Time: 23:40:15….16….17…_

Silence. Nothing, save the steady breeze of cool night air rolling down from the mountains to fill the warm valleys below. The occasional Hoothoot call or Poochyena cry would end the silence, but only for a brief second before it enveloped the valley once more.

This, this is what James loved. The cool air felt like a blanket of comfort, the occasional sting of a crisp breeze letting him know that he was still alive, still breathing, still moving. The cry of distant pokémon covered the sound of his careful, near-silent footsteps – his slippers for an evening stroll. The twinkling stars and the rising crescent moon barely lit up the low-hanging branch five feet ahead of him; but to James, this was his lamppost on a dark, shady street. And finally, the darkness itself was his skin. It encompassed him, embraced him, and flowed through him. He felt no more distant from the darkness than a Magmar from boiling magma, and he was sure the darkness felt the same way. He welcomed the darkness, and it in turn supported him and his team in taking on their task.

The dark, barbed-wire fencing of the enemy base loomed just 50 yards ahead; 50 yards of no trees, no tall grass, no nothing to cover their approach. The five members of Jason's team waited, hiding, in the tree line just beyond the range of the spotlights that covered the open expanse, spanning out over a distance of 20 yards from Conner, on his far left, to Jefferson on his far right. James looked for a ready confirmation from all of them, and received four 'thumbs up' – the 'Go Ahead" signal.

Quietly, James dropped two Duskballs to his feet. They broke open upon hitting the ground, concealing the pokémon in a dark glow before revealing their forms: an Umbreon and a Pikachu. Both shook off the feeling of suddenly returning to reality before turning their attention to him. James picked up the balls before quietly saluting to Jefferson's Ralts, who nodded and began to glow with a blue aura, which encompassed James' pokémon and himself as well.

_Lune, Flash, I need you to get past the spotlights and take one out. We just need one down, and only for a short time so we can get up to the fence. Make it short-out, but restore power just as we arrive._

James drew his right hand quickly across his neck, and the blue aura disappeared. His pokémon nodded, and Ace climbed up on the back of Lune, his lightning tail swaying a bit to gain balance as he climbed. As soon as the Pikachu was ready, Lune was off and out of James' sight soon after.

The team didn't have to wait five minutes before one of the lights started flickering, on and off for another five minutes before finally shutting off completely. James tomahawked his right hand forward, and the team swiftly sprinted across the expanse. True to their word, just as they reached the fence not even two minutes later the spotlight suddenly flicked back on, sweeping the area around it erratically.

James dropped another Duskball, this one breaking open to reveal a Quilava. James nodded towards the fence, and the Quilava nodded back. Quietly, without flaring her rear and head flames, she began to burn through the fence in a small circular pattern. James turned and looked beyond the fence. He could see several bodies up and about, some standing guard but a few were headed for the recently-shorting spotlight tower to their left.

No sooner than James could get antsy about waiting did the small patch of fence fall through, and Jefferson immediately made the plunge with Conner right behind him. They all filed through, with Quilava bringing up the rear and sealing the fence back together behind them. James waited by the fence with his pokémon while the other three rushed off to take up positions alongside the tents 10 yards away. When she was done, James nodded a 'good job' before tapping her on the head with her ball, sucking her back inside.

They couldn't have too many pokémon running around or they'd get spotted for sure.

James looked around carefully, before rushing over to join his team. Reaching around behind him, he pulled out a laminated piece of paper and unfolded it in front of him on last time. The paper showed a rough sketch of the base, with black pen marks overtop the lamination showing their team's objectives.

James studied the map for a second, before crawling to the edge of the tent and peeking around the corner. There were only a few lights on in the camp at this hour, which James found odd. Usually, these places tried to light themselves up, which made their job of sneaking through the base extremely difficult. In the distance on the left side of the tent row, he spotted a Red Cross on a flagpole with a white border around it – the Medical Tent. James consulted his map again before looking back towards the flag, softly fluttering in the evening breeze.

James would've swore if he didn't think someone might hear him.

Their team was on the wrong side of the guard tower; they should've had the tower on their right, not their left. Instead of having a straight-shot to the HQ, where they would meet up with Smith's team to achieve their objective, they now had to take a round-about way to avoid the large open expanse of the ceremonial grounds, which stood just on the other side of the medical center and barracks to their left. Instead they'd have to pass between the medical center and the mess hall, where teams one and two would be conducting their objectives. James shut his eyes for a second to think of any possible way out of this.

Shouting from the guard tower about something shorting out gave him his answer.

James turned to his team and signaled their modified plan. After several hesitant nods, He turned back to the far side of the tent row and gave a left-handed salute – he knew Lune and Ace would get the signal to proceed on their own.

He turned and took point, crouch-walking his way over to the alleyway between two large barrack-tents before disappearing between them. His team followed, and they slowly made their way through the maze of tents that undoubtedly housed perhaps hundreds of soldiers, all of them armed to the teeth just as they were.

After slowly making their way through the tent maze, they finally came to what looked like the end of this particular row of tents. The end opened up into a small courtyard, with the mess-hall on one end, another tent row of some sort directly across from them, and the medical tent sitting at their 10. Another tent row of barracks sat to their 3, making the courtyard a mini five-way intersection; four too many intersections for James' liking. Hesitantly, James poked his head out around the corner for a split second before ducking back, hoping to see nothing impeding their progress. However, the two soldiers sitting outside the medical tent quickly foiled any hopes he may have had. James held up a fist behind him, flashing to fingers before putting his hand down. This would be tricky, as the courtyard was lit up and there was no place for them to cross safely without getting spotted. They could backtrack, but they had already taken too much time. James took another look, this time laying himself on the ground and taking a long look at the entire courtyard. He could see no other movements or troops besides the two standing at attention in front of the medical tent, and they were surprisingly attentive. Too attentive.

James crawled back, bringing his group into a 'huddle' of sorts in the confines of the alleyway. Jefferson brought out his Ralts again, and they all placed a finger on the pokémon to connect with it. Openly using a psychic move was too risky at this point, as another psychic pokémon could pick up the energy signal and alert the base to exactly their position.

However, Jefferson had taught his Ralts a little trick; though it couldn't telecommunicate without using a pokémon move like psychic, he could transfer images from one person to another without using anything more than his natural gift.

James conveyed the image to Ralts, and after a brief time they all withdrew their hands from the pokémon. James looked around the group for suggestions, before Conner stood up and crouched past James. He pulled his second pokéball from his belt, and released a Seviper. James watched the handsignal exchange between him and his pokémon, trying to get a sense of what his plan was. Conner then backed up, allowing the snake to take up the entire exit. He patted his pokémon on the tail, before drawing a knife from his thigh and tapping it once against a sizable rock on the ground.

_Clink._

Though he was sure the sound was hardly audible, it sounded like a grenade to James who had been careful this whole time not let a blade of grass crunch beneath his feet. He wondered what in the hell Conner was thinking before he heard both of the guards approach their hiding spot. A silent pause followed, and James wondered if they reconsidered before both of the guards jumped around the corner, one staying to the near side while the other wrapping around to the far side of the tents they were hiding behind, both with their AK-47's drawn and aimed right down the row towards their group.

No one moved. James had locked eyes with the first guard, who was staring angrily right back at him. After what seemed like an eternity – or the world's most interesting staring contest- it finally dawned on James what had happened.

Glare. Seviper had frozen the guards in place before they even had a chance to acknowledge that there was indeed five black-clothed guys crouched in a line between the two tent rows.

Conner quietly returned his pokémon before standing up, James doing the same behind him. Cautiously, they approached the two soldiers who hadn't moved a muscle since coming in contact with them; not that they could anyways.

Conner peeked out past the guards before giving James the thumbs up. James nodded, and together they grabbed the second guard and dragged him back into the alleyway, careful to break his deathgrip on the trigger before doing so. They handed him off to their teammates before grabbing the first guard – the one James had locked eyes with – and doing the same.

After dragging him a sufficient distance out of sight, James removed the magazine from the rifle and silently emptied the chamber. He then took out one of his own knives, a dagger tucked away in the small of his back, with his left hand before bringing it swiftly across the guard's neck. The guard's eyes went wide – sorta – for a split second before relaxing, the orange neon paint covering much of the front of his neck from his chin to his shoulders. James replaced the paint knife in its holster, taking care to wipe his finger around the edge to clean up any spillage and wipe off on the guard's bulletproof vest. The guard locked eyes with him again, and even though he knew the guard was "out of commission", something unnerved him about that stare.

A tap on his right shoulder shook him from his contest, and he turned to face Brett. The specialist pointed down towards the rifle still lying across the guards' chest. James sent him a confused look, which Brett must've picked up, because he reached over him and the guard to pick up the magazine he ejected from the rifle. Turning it over, Brett presented the open end of the mag to James.

It took a half-second for James to realize that the magazine was filled with _live ammunition._

_Since when the fuck did live ammunition become a part of a fucking training mission?_

James whipped out his map again quickly, and scanned over it thoroughly. The base was set up with the Medical Tent, Mess Hall, and HQ all in relatively close quarters, with the HQ being off to the side and the other two relatively close to the center. There was nothing unusual about the setup except for one thing: the tent rows. They were lined up in an arrangement that allowed virtually anyone walking the alleyways direct access to the HQ, medical tent, and mess hall areas with very little open ground to cover. Any other base would have openings or gaps, which would force and infiltration team to either split up or wind their way through the base, taking precious time and energy. Combined with the unusual lighting, lack of guards, and they face that these ones were carrying live ammo all added up to one thing.

Trap.

James looked around, his teammates either having already come to the same conclusion or probably darn near to it. He reached around his belt and grabbed another Duskball, this one opening up to reveal his Swellow. Ralts came out of hiding from behind his trainer. Never had James been more appreciative of the pokémon than now for its special gift. Undoubtedly the base was crawling with psychic pokémon, waiting for them to make a stupid move that would get them all killed. James' team and Swellow touched Ralts, and James thought out his new plan to everyone. James' Swellow withdrew its wing first, silently taking off and disappearing into the night sky. Jefferson withdrew Ralts, and he and Mark nodded to each other before working their way back down the alleyway, back the way they had just come. Conner and Brett nodded as well, and the two looked out towards the courtyard before sprinting across, passing the mess hall and disappearing. James waited a full minute, before sprinting towards the medical tent, passing it on his left and ducking into the alleyway created by another Tent Row.

The "plan", if you could call it that, was simple enough.

His Swellow was to exit the base area and warn Lieutenant Perse about the situation, who was in command of the platoon and was waiting in reserve with his team so he could monitor the situation from afar. The platoon always acted as five separate but unified teams, with four teams doing the work and one team holding back just in case, and the teams took turns playing "bitch". Though James didn't exactly agree with the sit-and-watch tactic, he nevertheless had to admit the Ell-Tee was a capable leader…well, at least until this shit hit the fan. Hopefully he'd be able to figure out something before things got hairy. Conner and Brett would intercept team's one and two, hopefully before they caused a ruckus trying to achieve their objective. From there they'd evacuate with their teams, meeting back up with them at the safe zone. Hopefully 2nd Lieutenant Keitell wouldn't be super-pissed at being overruled by a mere Sergeant, though James was fairly sure he would. Mark and Jefferson would head back to their teams entrance point, taking care to make sure the area was secure when James came hauling back through the camp. As for James, he had the most fun job of them all…

…saving 2nd Lieutenant Smith's sorry ass. True, he really did like Ell-Tee Smith the most out of all of his CO's, but the relationship between him and the Lieutenant was…interesting, to say the least.

James shook the thoughts from his head as he half-ran, half-crouch-walked the length of the allyway, peeking out between two tents to check and see if the area was clear before ducking across a road and behind some sort of storage building. As he cut through the winding buildings, he no longer focused on how silent he was, but more on getting to Smith ASAP. In order to do that, he had to circle almost completely around the far side of the HQ Building, passing what James guessed were simp-

-_well, hello Mr. Armory. I almost missed you in all the rush._

James indeed had literally passed the tent, noticing the lettering from a back entrance. Why the Armory _needed _a back entrance he couldn't say, but still; don't let a good thing go to waste.

Thinking on the fly, James gave three short whistles before ducking behind a stack of crates. He waited a few minutes, then peered overtop the crates, seeing his Umbreon and Pikachu looking a little worn out but nonetheless fine. He tapped his finger on the crate, and his pokémon turned and joined him. Pressed for time, James broke protocol and whispered his instructions to the two.

"This is the Armory. I don't care how you do it, but in five minutes blow it up. Get out alive at all costs; use Allei to escape." James spoke softly and rapidly, unclipping the last Duskball on his belt. Lune nodded with Ace, who took the ball from James' hands. James looked over his shoulder to confirm that he was still in the clear before leaving the two to their…fun.

As he ran, James heard gunfire and shouting off in the distance. He didn't bother to figure out where, he just kept running – even as soldiers climbed out of their tents right next to him to see what all the commotion was.

He could only hope no one noticed him as he ran.

Finally, he was at the HQ building. Honestly, it felt like it took him forever to get there, but checking his watch it read 00:52:45…46...47…just an hour and 15 minutes-ish since the start of the mission; and only three minutes since he left his pokémon.

_Come on come on where are you guys…_James thought to himself anxiously. He peered out to where he guessed the team would be – a tent row that lead almost right up to the back side of the HQ Building. The building was only two stories, but it was still the most imposing structure on the whole base. Looking around he could see several guards patrolling the area, looking incredibly antsy but nonetheless vigilant. He wondered why they hadn't left as well to investigate the gunfire, but shook that off for now; he had to find Delta Team.

A hand on his shoulder and James instantly whirled on his assailant, driving him back and off-balance while spinning and simultaneously pulling out both daggers from behind his back with his right and left hands, bringing the fake one instinctively to the neck of his opponent and the real one, in his right hand, to his opponent's gut-

-before realizing he had just nearly stabbed the guy he came to rescue.

Pausing a second as they locked eyes before withdrawing both blades to their proper holsters. James took a few deep breaths, reminding himself _not _to yell at Smith and tell him what a frickin' _idiot_ he was for sneaking up on him without giving him the freaking sign and counter-sign…none of that mattered at the moment.

Smith helped push those thoughts away with his own questions. "Where the hell's your team Martin? And what's with that shooting? What the hell have you been _doing_ all this time?" Smith's agitation was apparent since he was breaking protocol, which he almost never did…and James was sure having a dagger pressed against his gut didn't help matters.

"Smith, we're dead if we stay here. They're using _live ammunition._ They've had us pegged from the start. I've sent my team to clear a path and warn Perse, so we need to get the hell out of here _now._"

As if to make his point, James nodded to the other five team members gathered behind Smith and started to motion for them to go back through the alleyway he had come from. Before he got a step though, Smith grabbed his shoulder again, this time turning James towards himself. "Now wait just a damn-

**Boom.**

He didn't so much hear as much as he _felt _the explosion, as it knocked James flat on his can. The rest of the team struggled to get up, and James found that his ears were ringing.

Well, that wasn't good.

James shook his head clear, or at least tried to, and looked towards the other team members who were all signaling the same thing; they couldn't hear either. James grabbed whoever was closest to him and got his attention, before lifting him to his feet and dragging him along behind him. He knew the rest would have to follow.

As soon as the man got his footing he let go, stumbling more than running his way through the camp. There was absolute chaos as fire times rushed to the scene, people were running around screaming, and he was pretty sure he saw an arm lying in the middle of the roadway. If he had stopped to think about it, it would have been extremely eerie to witness this without being able to hear at all.

Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was just all the confusion, perhaps God himself was guiding James to safety, but somehow they got past the explosion, past most of the barracks, and had even managed to find his way back towards the medical tent. Now it was just the long march down tent row before they were at the guard tower from which they entered and they were home free.

Unfortunately, James hadn't counted on the explosion creating a flood of activity at the once-barren medical tent. The entire area was lit up like a Christmas tree, and with each passing minute more stretchers filled the courtyard and soldiers with guns stood watching and waiting.

James turned and pointed towards the space between the two guard towers, where he knew Jefferson and Mark would still be waiting despite probably being terrified out of their minds at this point. The others nodded in understanding, to which James gave them a mock salute before heading out into the open.

Was it stupid? Yes. Would he get killed? Probably. But as he strode out into the middle of the road, where startled soldiers coming from the Medical Tent greeted him with raised guns and vocal orders he couldn't possibly have heard, he didn't really care about any of that. All he cared about was that he got that team back to base safe and sound. He raised his hands in surrender, dropping his last Duskball as he did so. The soldiers yelled and yelled but it didn't matter, for when the ball opened up and his Flygon Yena came bursting out, he knew it was all over…for them at least.

He uttered just a single word before all hell broke loose again.

Outrage.

And she did.

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><p><strong>AN:**

Welp, I'm finally back in business. Found the motivation to write another story, so I've giving it my all in this multi-chaptered one.

A few notes:

1) Please Read **AND** Review!

2) Updates will come when I am ready to post them, and not a second sooner.

3) If you wish, **I will be accepting OC's**. **_HOWEVER_**, if you wish to submit an OC for this story, **you must submit via PM (Private Messaging) only. Any characters submitted via Review will be considered ineligible and your review may be reported.** This is in accordance with rules and guidelines.

4) **_Disclaimer:_**I do not own Pokemon. Pokemon was originally created by Satoshi Tajiri, and is owned by Game Freak Inc. I do, however, reserve the right to own my characters, as does anyone who submits a character to the story have a right to "own" their particular character.

This will be the first and last author's note, unless more become nessesary (I hope not).

Thanks, and enjoy!


	2. Prologue Ch 2: In the Sharpedo Tank

Note: Thank you Karissa for the review!

**You may still submit OC's _via PM ONLY._**

* * *

><p>"Fog of War"<p>

Prologue Chapter 2: In the Sharpedo Tank

_Date: Tuesday, July 6__th__, 2014  
><em>_Location: Fallarbor Town Military Base, Hanger 3  
><em>_Time: 10:13:09…10…11…  
><em>

James Martin stood at attention, staring straight forward as he faced the guts of Hanger number three, his eyes telling the story of a soldier zoned out from exhaustion. He gazed through the back of 2nd Lieutenant Keitells' black covered head, and Staff Sergeant Jones ahead of him. To his left was his entire team, with Brett being immediately next to him all the way down to Jefferson on the end. He couldn't _really_ tell 'who-was-who' since they all were still wearing their full combat gear, which covered them in pitch-black Nomex, Kevlar and impact-gel body armor from head to toe, except for roughly a two by four inch opening around the eyes. All of them carried standard issue P90 compact assault rifle's on sling's hanging from their shoulders, and if James looked hard enough he could pick out the various knives and other weapons that were strapped to every man in the Platoon. Now, though, wasn't the time for that. They now all stood in formation at attention, facing the backs of Lieutenant Perse and First Sergeant Yeally, everyone awaiting orders from higher up. Indeed, since the initial debrief earlier that morning, they had all been ordered to stand at attention and await further orders...with a pending investigation into the fiasco that _was_ supposed to be the graduating training mission for the 3rd Platoon of Charlie Company, 56th Special Forces and Reconnaissance Battalion of the Hoenn Air Force.

Yeah, try saying that three times fast.

Every single man and pokémon stood accounted for in their platoon after the debriefing, with all of the platoon's pokémon carted off to the base's Pokémon Center. Save perhaps the loss of hearing for seven of the members – James himself and all of team four – there were no casualties to be heard of for any of the 3rd Platoon's 30 members.

"**WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU NUT-FUCKERS THE ORDERS TO BLOW UP THE GODDAMN TARGET?"**

_...welp, so much for no casualties. _James thought to himself as he felt his still sensitive ears ring despite the source of the noise coming from across the hanger.

Command Sergeant Major Whitley stormed across the deck of the empty hanger, looking just as imposing as his pure-muscle six-foot-five build would suggest. He was dressed in his full Class A gear save his flat-hat, which was almost forgotten considering how red his face was it almost matched the deep maroon of his uniform.

"**I SAY AGAIN, WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO DROP A GRENADE OR WHATEVERTHEHELL YOU DID TO BLOW UP THE GODDAMN ARMORY ON THAT BASE?"**

Silence spanned the entire platoon, except of course the echo of the Sergeant's voice. _Well I didn't think it was a GOOD idea…_James thought quietly to himself, hoping to stave off execution for just a second longer.

"So, nobody knows then." The CSM said critical voice. He slowly began pacing in front of the platoon, making sure to stop in front of each and every team member, even pacing between the rows just so he could give everyone the same death glare. James was pretty sure even then that the Sergeant was going to stop right in front of him, but he still held out hope as he made the precarious turn down his row.

_Jefferson….Mark…..Conner….Brett and…_

"Well well well….what do we have here?"

_Bingo! I win!_

Whitley performed a perfect quarter-turn to face directly in front of James.

"So, Sergeant Martin, is it?"

"Yes Sergeant Major." James responded automatically.

"It says here in your report that you left your team to help rescue another team right as the explosion happened. Is that correct?"

"Yes Sergeant Major."

"So would it be suffice to say that you were in the area when said explosion went off. Is that correct?"

"Yes Sergeant Major."

The Command Sergeant Major bent down slightly, so that he was eye-level with James. "Now, I'm going to ask you a very important question Sergeant, and you better think about it _**very**_ carefully before you answer, got that?" He whispered, practically breathing venom into the air.

"Yes, Sergeant Major." James replied carefully.

"Good." Whitley smiled, a carnivorous smile suitable for a Sharpedo. "Now, did _**you**_ by chance set off that explosion?"

James paused a full second before answering. "No Sergeant Major."

The Master Sergeant frowned. "Ah, well-"

"I ordered my pokémon to, Sergeant Major."

A ladybug walking on a windowsill could be heard from 200 feet away.

James watched as the CSM's face turned from a white, to a pink, then red, cranberry, and finally a beautiful maroonish-purple; he could've swore the Sergeant's face was a natural kaleidoscope.

"You….did…_**WHAT?**_"

James instinctively squinted and flinched, but otherwise tried to hold his ground.

"**YOU LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHATSOEVER AS TO WHAT YOU DID!"**

Despite the ringing in his ears and fearing for his life, James had to answer truthfully.

"No Sergeant Major!"

…if only to pray the CSM had a heart attack before he was eviscerated.

"**I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU DID! YOU AND YOUR FUCKING POKÉMON KILLED YOUR OWN DAMN SOLDIERS! YOUR FUCKING BROTHERS-IN-ARMS! TWENTY SOLDIERS DEAD! **_**DEAD!**_** AT LEAST FORTY MORE INJURED, SOME OF THEM PROBABLY PERMANENTLY! AT LEAST A HUNDRED ARE COMPLAINING OF TROUBLE HEARING, AND MORE WILL LIKELY COME FORWARD LATER ON! AND NOT TO MENTION WHOEVER THE FUCK USED THEIR DAMN FLYGON NEAR A MEDICAL FACILITY-"**

"-That was me too Sergeant Major!"

He shouldn't have done it. He knew he shouldn't have done it. But for some reason the thought of _his _thirty soldiers, of _his _brothers-in-arms, _his_ teammates, _his_ platoon mates, facing the same fate at the hands of fellow Hoenn soldiers who had been _authorized_ to use live ammunition in a _training scenario_…

…by the end of it, his blood was boiling to.

The Command Sergeant Major froze mid-rant. For half a second, he thought Whitley had been broken.

the strong punch to the gut that sent him to the floor, combined with the kick to his side, told him otherwise.

"You little piece of shit," he said, watching James struggle to fill his lungs with oxygen.

Whitley kicked him again, just as hard, sending James rolling across the floor out of formation.

"You know what you are? You're trash." Whitley began, crouching down to whisper in a sing-song belittling manner to the groaning James. "No, scratch that, you're worse than trash. You're the scum of the earth. You're no more deserving to walk this God-blessed planet than Satan himself. What _**I **_want to know though is _**why. **__**Why oh why did you do it Sergeant Martin, why the fuck did you do it?"**_

Sergeant Whitley grabbed James by the top of the mask, yanking him to his feet against his will. James stumbled on the spot, standing up as much as possible before answering.

"To protect my platoon from harm, Sergeant Major!"

Sergeant Whitley started to respond, but James continued.

"Sergeant Major, if you have read my report then you would have come to the same conclusion after learning that the 'enemy' was using _**LIVE FUCKING AMMUNITION IN A FUCKING TRAINING MISSION, SIR!"**_

The CSM got real close, so close that James thought their noses would rub. So close that if he tried, James could probably kiss the Master Sergeant on the lips befo-

_-the hell? Damn, that must've been a hard kick._ James did his best to shake those disturbing images from his head.

"Now you listen to me Sergeant, just-"

"-That's enough, Command Sergeant Major."

The formation snapped a quick salute, while the Master Sergeant whirled in place to do the same.

Coronel Jeffrey Gaves was the man in charge of the entire 56th Battalion. As the newest formed "Battalion" in the Hoenn Armed Forces and the only Special Operations Ground Team in the Air Force, Coronel Gaves saw the Battalion as nothing short of his pride and joy; his baby girl who he found out just yesterday was bringing her first guy home to meet him.

In short, nothing happened to the 56th without his say-so.

The Coronel strode at a lax pace across the open hanger, taking what seemed like forever to cross the space between the swinging door he came from to stand before the platoon. Upon reaching the formation, he stood at attention as well, his eyes gazing over the group before finally reaching James and the Master Sergeant. If James paid attention more to the Coronel than to his aching ribs at that point, he would've seen the tired look in the Coronel's eyes, noticed that the silver Raquaza on his cap was tilted to the side, and perhaps even seen that at least one of his shirt buttons was undone. Indeed, the Coronel looked every bit as tired and worn out as he felt, but to James, at least at that moment, he stood there as his only, if temporary, saving grace.

"All of you are dismissed. There will be an incident debriefing over the course of actions that occurred during the mission at 0900 tomorrow. That is all." He said simply, nodding to Lt. Perse who began giving the orders for dismissal and cleanup.

As he gave the orders, Coronel Gaves walked past CSM Whitley and James, pausing only to say, "you two follow me," before continuing to walk off onto the tarmac.

James looked at the Master Sergeant who glared right back, before falling in line behind the Coronel.

* * *

><p>As James walked in step behind the Coronel, shoulder to…just above the elbow with CSM Whitley, he took a moment to ponder what kind of trouble he was in. Oh, he was in trouble; that was for sure. No matter how he tried to think his way out of it, the end results were all the same.<p>

_Chopping block, chopping block, I'm so getting the chopping block…let's see, deliberately setting off a chain of events that killed, if I heard correctly, 32 fellow Hoenn soldiers and injuring dozens more…let's see, that's good enough for a trip to the firing squad…disobeying mission parameters meant to keep everyone safe…dishonorable discharge there…neglecting the chain of command…hmmm….discharge at best, firing squad at worst…let's see, what else is there?...Inappropriate use of pokémon during a training mission...that could be-_

Click.

The sound of a door lock giving way jarred James out of his thought pattern. He was glad for it really, he was starting to get depressed. The Coronel entered the room first, which seemed to James to be a small conference room. The Command Sergeant Major stormed past James, not even trying to hide a very obvious shoulder bump in the process. James reluctantly followed in, just managing to get past the door's swing before the Coronel shut the door behind him.

"Coronel, this man directly violated the-"

"-I know what he did Sergeant Whitley, I read the reports." The Coronel said, holding up a hand to silence him. The CSM was having none of that if he could help it.

"But Sir, he is directly responsible for the death and dismemberment of-"

"-and he will face a Military Board which will review his actions."

"Sir, this man is a traitor! He openly admit-"

"That's enough, Command Sergeant Major." Coronel Gaves said with finality, which finally silenced Whitley, if only for the moment.

"Listen to me. A Military Board will review _**everything**_ that has happened in this incident. The men of your Battalion who died and were injured is a tragedy to be sure, but everything must be taken into account of. _Especially_ if any evidence turns up of one side violating the rules of the engagement by equipping their battalion with _live _ammunition instead of the plastic _training_ rounds. Not to mention any evidence suggesting the defending soldiers were given additional information that perhaps _violated_ the conditions of the war games. Have I made myself clear?" The Coronel was so crisp in his finish that James swore he saw the CSM break out in sweat.

"Yes….sir." Whitley replied.

"Good. Sergeant Major, you are dismissed. There is something I need to discuss with Sergeant Martin here." James snapped to attention at the acknowledgement of his name, unaware he had almost been leaning on the wall behind him.

Coronel Gaves opened the door for the CSM, who promptly exited but not before giving James one last hard glare. Despite not meeting his eyes, James still felt the pure killing intent wash over him like a tsunami. A close of the door brought him back to reality, for what was surely way too many times that day he zoned out.

Coronel Gaves held his hand on the door handle for a couple seconds, as if considering whether or not to open it again, before leaving it shut and turning to the table. The oval hardwood table had enough seats for a dozen or so people, but for now it was just James and Gaves. The only other object in the room that James could see was a phone that was plugged in and on a small table behind the Coronel.

"At ease Sergeant." Coronel Gaves said, looking over James' perfect imitation of a statue.

James fell into an 'at ease' stance, but nevertheless remained as statue as ever.

The Coronel sighed before taking a seat across from him at the table. "If you keep on standing like that, you'll pass out in five minutes. Take a seat, and remove your mask and headgear for me if you would please."

Still unsure but unwilling to disobey an "order", James did as he was told, taking a seat directly across from the Coronel at the narrow end of the table. James had almost forgotten about his headgear, he spent so much time in it in training it felt like a second skin to him. He wasn't really sure what the stuff was made of, it was think and molded in some parts and thin and pliable in others. Someone once told him that it had some special type of Kevlar and Nomex combination in it, but whenever he asked somebody who knew they'd tell him to "just shut up and wear it". The setup was all black, and encompassed his entire head save a small space from his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose that was left open so he could have a full range of vision. The material form-fitted his entire face, and was thin enough that he could breathe without difficulty even after a 10-mile run where he needed it to be. Below his chin the material got a little tougher, but by no means limited his natural motions. Finally the rest of the material was tucked down under the rest of his combat suit, forming a cover out to the top of his shoulders and down to his chest; and it was a pain to get off without stripping down completely.

When he finally was able to remove the offending article of clothing, he turned to see a young Lieutenant at the door, who handed the Coronel a briefcase before exiting.

Coronel Gaves took the briefcase, setting it on the table in front of him before taking his seat. Upon opening it, papers and folders practically poured out of it, making James wonder how it was closed in the first place. Gaves halfheartedly tossed several folders on the table, and stuffed the rest back in before slamming the case shut. He then turned and sat the briefcase behind him, and after a brief pause, removed the phone cord from the wall.

James took this as a bad sign.

The Coronel sighed before turning back to the papers in front of him, as if questioning whether he wanted to open any of them at all.

"Well we got ourselves quite a pickle here, Sergeant Martin. Quite a pickle…" He said, finally finding the folder he wanted and opening it, shaking his head as he did so.

The Coronel peered over the contents briefly before taking off his Maroon dress cap, and setting it on the side before running his hand through his hair a few times. James idly wondered how many new gray hairs were there from just this morning alone. The Coronel finally closed the folder and his eyes, turning his head to the sky as if asking why he had to do this.

James wondered too.

"Welp, here's the deal James," He said, not breaking his form while doing so. "Everything said, seen and heard in this room is strictly off the record. Anything said outside of this room is not. Period."

The Coronel finally opened his eyes again, considering the fly buzzing near the florescent lighting before lowering them to lock eyes with James. "Are we clear?"

"….uh…yes, sir?" James responded hesitantly.

The Coronel nodded, not breaking eye contact the whole time.

"Good. Let's begin then." The first folder slid over to rest in front of James, a big "CONFIDENTIAL" stamp over the cover of the folder.

"Sir? This is-"

"-For your eyes only, Sergeant." Gaves responded, adding a dismissing wave of the hand.

James hesitated for a moment, before opening the folder and pouring over the contents. The folder depicted a detailed listing of the events that had occurred at the base from both sides. Included were patrol reports, guard duties, and listings of troop positions. James noted with key interest that two guards outside the medical tents were listed as "KIA" at 0013, which was just after James and his team had made their way through. _Those bastards cheated._ He thought, as there was no way James could see them being found where they were in just perhaps five minutes after being killed.

In hindsight, looking at his watch and writing down the time would've been a good idea at that point last night.

James scanned over the rest, finding that by 0035 the 1st and 2nd teams had been spotted and were engaged, but according to the base troops, "oddly already retreating". At 0054 the explosion was reported, and the list of casualties was listed below. Then at 0102 there was the incident where James faked surrender in front of the Medical Tent while releasing his Flygon. There was no mention of the entire fourth team being in the area – James took some pleasure in that – just him hitting the deck while Yena created her favorite flavor of mayhem, literally. After that, the rest of the document summarized the cleanup operations and final casualty total, as well as all the ordinance expended and equipment lost. James' grip tightened when he read that indeed the enemy troops DID have live ammunition.

After finishing the document, James closed it and set it back down on the table in front of him with unusual care, as if the preservation of that document was the only thing that would keep him from facing a firing squad in the near future.

James stared at it for a moment, before looking up to the Coronel, who was eyeing his reaction carefully.

James decided to choose his next question carefully. "Sir…what does this all mean?"

It was an honest question, and James hoped that the Coronel would pick up on the words he left out.

Gaves leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and interlacing his hands in front of him.

"Well, it means several things. First and foremost, you are no longer a team leader in the 3rd Platoon, or a member of Charlie Company in the 56th Battalion. Your position will likely be filled by Specialist Brett Clarson, who's due for a promotion due to his heroic rescue of the first and second teams. Second, you'll be immediately escorted out of here to undergo a physical evaluation, along with the rest of team four. Finally, you will stand before a Military Board and explain your actions, where you will be found 'Not Guilty' to some degree on all counts held against you. After that, the ball will be held in your court."

James couldn't process what he had just heard.

"…what?"

The Coronel laughed heartily before responding. "Oh I don't doubt Command Sergeant Major Whitley will be pissed, but you'll be let off the hook for this one, considering all that occurred and given your _very_ detailed report." He sighed and visibly slumped in his chair before continuing. "And in light of several rules possibly being violated during the training exercise, accidental or otherwise, the overall end result should be greatly in your favor."

"…and what about the Command Sergeant Major, sir?" James asked. He knew the Command Sergeant Major was the one in charge of the defending forces at the base in the absence of the Battalion's Chief of Staff. He had also heard rumor before the mission that for some unknown reason the Sergeant didn't have the highest view of the newly-formed 56th, especially since their combat tactics were far from "conventional".

The Coronel paused a great many seconds before answering.

"The Command Sergeant Major will also face a Military Review Board, where he may or may not receive a reprimand for certain actions that perhaps may or may not have taken place under his direct or indirect leadership, consequently resulting in the inevitable turn of events that you have seen before you." He summarized.

It took James almost five minutes to process what that meant.

"It'll be a cover-up, sir."

The Coronel grinned, though sadly. "I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, son."

James nodded in understanding. "Then what about the soldiers who died? The one's who were disabled and injured?"

"They will receive full honors and honorary military discharges, accordingly."

"…so, what now?"

The Coronel passed James another folder, this one much thinner in content then the last. James didn't hesitate this time to open it and review its contents.

"For your valor and dedication to your comrades, I have seen fit to, ah, 'pull some strings' if you will. You will no longer be a member of Charlie Company as stated before, but instead you will be transferred to Delta Company, where you will be promoted to the rank of First Sergeant pending approval of your promotion to 2nd Lieutenant and then Lieutenant. You'll be given temporary command of the 2nd Platoon of Delta Company, and after you pass through the Leadership Training School's program immediately assume full command of said Platoon." The Coronel said, his smile growing larger the longer he talked.

James didn't want to think of just how many strings the Coronel had to pull to make that work. He was sure that his face showed it.

"Sir I-"

"Don't worry about it, and don't mention it. To anyone. This is top secret information here, officially you'll be dishonorably discharged before being reinstated pending a Board of Review of your actions, which will never officially exist. If, however, you talk about this, you _will_ be dishonorably discharged and that'll be the end of it. Your bunk and personal gear has already been packed, and you are not to talk to anyone about this incident, or more specifically this talk, ever again. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

The Coronel stood, straightening out his uniform before offering a handshake which James accepted.

"Then good luck Lieutenant, we're going to need a lot more people as dedicated to their men, and to their country, as you out there." The Coronel gave him a crisp salute, which James returned before stepping back from his chair.

The Coronel did the same, grabbing the briefcase and stuffing the folders back in before closing it again and making his way to the door.

"Sir…" The Coronel froze, hand on the doorknob.

"What do you mean by 'out there'?"

"Unfortunately, son, I think you'll find out soon enough." Came the solemn reply, before the door swung open and Lieutenant James Martin was left to ponder the meaning himself.

* * *

><p>Please Read and Review.<p> 


	3. Ch 1: A Hero Homecoming

If you wish, you may submit an OC via PM. Thanks SaME for the reviews.

* * *

><p>"Fog of War"<p>

**Chapter 1: A "Hero" Homecoming**

_Date: Friday July 23__rd__, 2014  
><em>_Location: Fortree City Outskirts  
><em>_Time: 14:40:43…44….45…_

"Well, here you go Sir. This is as close as the main road gets to the Maple Community." The taxi driver said, turning to face the sole occupant of the vehicle.

The man in the seat behind him didn't reply, and when the taxi driver looked closely, he realized that his passenger had passed out along the way. Sighing, and really not wanting to be rude, the man rapped on the Plexiglas window separating the two a few times before he finally stirred.

James took more than a second to wake up from his surprisingly comfortable snooze, but when he did, he finally took a look outside and realized that he was home; well, almost anyways. The Maple Community was one of the last "old" sections of Fortree City left, where people actually lived in the large trunks of the centuries-old trees that made this part of the region so famous. Much of the rest of the city had succumbed to modernization, but even though most of the buildings were made of stone, concrete and steel rather than wood, compared to its neighbors like Maudville or Lilycove, Fortree still looked to preserve that what had made the city what it was for so long. Rarely was a tree ever cut down, and if it was they made every square inch of the tree and the land it took count for something.

James also knew that the Maple Community was considered the poorest of the historical sections of the city. Now, "poor" was a relative term. The people here weren't homeless hags living in whatever nook they could find, nor where they druggies looking for a hideout to get their quick fix. No, the people who lived here lived in the smallest average living space per "household" in the city, with usually two trees sufficing for everything a family needed. One tree housed the family area, dining room and kitchen (all pretty much one room) while the other tree would house the bedrooms. Restrooms, if you could call them that, where normally situated at the base of the tree, to keep contamination away from the people and the tree's guts, where it could become polluted and die. Some houses had gotten bigger over the long years, and had attachments like extra bedrooms built on platforms. James' house was no exception to that.

"Well sir, are you going to sit in there all day? I do have other patrons to attend to and I don't get paid by the hour." The taxi man said, starting to get irritated.

James stretched out his arms before reaching into his grey cargo shorts pocket and fishing around for his money. After eyeing the fee listed on the man's counter, he fished around before pulling out several Hoenn Helois and handing them to the man through the sliding Plexiglas door.

"Thank you." The driver counted the money, making sure it was correct while James hopped out of the car, putting on his sunglasses as he did so.

He then realized they'd be useless to him in the shade of the trees, and absentmindedly pocketed them.

The taxi driver flung open his door as well, grunting as he lifted himself out before walking around to open up the trunk. A large black dufflebag and an almost equally large forest-camo backpack stared back at them both. Before the driver could reach, James shooed him away and swung the backpack over his shoulder, grunting slightly at the weight.

"Ummm….sir, do you need help with any of this?" The driver asked, subconsciously wondering if the guy could handle such large bags as he saw him fail twice to swing the dufflebag over his shoulder before succeeding.

"Yeah…" James puffed, "I got it. Thanks for the lift." The taxi driver nodded, closing the trunk before getting in the car and taking off, once James had made his way into the forest beyond along a wide dirt path marked only with a small sign saying 'Maple Drive'.

An hour and 10 minutes later – after two breaks of 10 minutes each – James finally reached his home tree. It had not markings, no signs saying that "this was it", but James still knew nonetheless. It was home, and home was where the heart was. James made his way over to the gurney, setting down his packs before checking the woodwork and ropes holding it together. After satisfying himself that everything was secure, James pulled loose the brake lever, feeling a satisfying _jolt_ as the gurney rose into the heavens.

_Three days earlier…_

"_Sergeant James Martin, please rise."_

_James stood at attention, facing a counsel of five Air Force Senior Officers, ranging in rank from Lt. Coronel to Brigadier General. The General, who sat in the center of the panel, pulled up a sheet of paper closer to his eyes as he read._

"_Given the evidence that supports your statement of the events that occurred on the night of July 5__th__ and 6__th__, we have agreed that the decisions you made were with respect to those you were fighting against and, given the situation, within reason. We find you not guilty on the charges regarding treason and killing of fellow Hoenn soldiers. We do, however, find you guilty of one count of direct violation of your chain of command, 2__nd__ Lieutenant Smith, and one indirect violation of the same against Lieutenant Perse. For these charges a date will be set to by this Review Board to determine the proper punishment for these actions. In the meantime, you will be discharged from your Company and sent home, where we will contact you about said date. Dismissed."_

It was now July 23rd, and as James rose into the lowest layer of the canopy he felt the heat rolling off the ground beneath him. Even in the shade, it was still too damn hot for him.

James slowed down the gurney, stopping at a level platform surrounding the massive tree it was attached to. James took a hesitant step onto the platform, before breathing a sigh of relief. It had been at least 3 years since he had last been able to visit home, and the lack of exposure to the nauseating heights had an effect on him. Removing his bags, James hit the release lever on the platform, watching as the gurney slowly travelled back down to the forest floor. The weighted pully system really did make him wonder sometimes.

Turning, James faced the door before him, a small door that, even though he was only five foot seven, still made him want to duck as the height was only six feet. This was the Living Room/Dining Room/Kitchen, and around the other side of the tree was a hanging wooden bridge that lead to the bedrooms.

James sighed. He guessed he'd better start here.

Knocking once and hearing no answer, James opened the door which he found, as was normal, to be unlocked.

"Coming in!" He announced, ducking and entering the room. Immediately he knew that no one was here, as it was pitch-black inside. James sighed, fumbling around before finding a light switch, as there were no windows in any of the tree houses, as the doors on their own took enough stability away from the tree. How the city ever afforded to get electricity – or manage without it – up in the tall trees was beyond James, but he rarely questioned it anymore. A spoon to the head from his mother at the age of 10 after he practically annoyed her to death quickly cured him of his curiosity…or at least, his incessant need to verbalize it.

The room looked quaint. The table in the center of the room barely could fit six seats around it, and the only other furniture was a countertop, an endtable which could only hold a small lamp and a videophone and a wide bookshelf; which housed games, books and family treasures such as photo albums, with a pint-sized TV on top. The kitchen, rather in a corner, was spread out in a semi-circle, encompassing a full third of the room itself. In all, there was very little room for five people to move around in.

But then again, James got used to it just as the rest of his family did.

"You going to stand there all day and waste our electricity, or are you going to enter and have a coffee with your mother?"

James whirled around, to find the source of the voice staring patiently, almost humorously back at him.

"Welcome home."

* * *

><p>"…and so that's why I'm here, waiting for my punishment. Honestly, I'm not sure why they didn't just demote me then and get it over with, or discharge me." James resented, recounting the story he had recounted a hundred times already to his mother; making sure to leave out the parts that were 'classified'.<p>

His mother, Sarah Martin, was a small woman. Standing no more than five foot tall and always wearing a large, bubbly smile on her face – except, maybe, at a funeral – she seemed no more imposing to the average person than a young pidgey to a tyranitar. James liked it that way; truthfully…he had gotten on her bad side more than a few times…it was the only thing that ever prepared him for boot camp. She, unlike the rest of the family, had strikingly blonde, straight hair, deep blue eyes and very fair skin. When she was young her family moved away from her homeland of Kanto to Hoenn, where she met James' father when they entered High School together. James for his part, had deep brown semi-straight hair (it always curled a bit in the back when it got long), dull grey-blue eyes and a lightly tanned skin, somewhat typical of the Hoenn region.

His mother sighed, drinking the last of her coffee before setting it down on the wooden table.

"Well, you're always welcome to stay here. Now you'll have to find a job in the meantime and help out around the house, but we're happy to have you home." His mom said, smiling.

James cracked a smile as well, the first in a long time it felt like. "Thanks mom. How's dad doing?"

"Oh you know the usual; always off playing with his little toys in that "Secret Base Shop" of his. I swear, that man could run a small popcorn stand in the middle of a high-class restaurant mall and still turn a profit."

They both laughed at that, knowing how his dad's passion often drove the family nuts…with annoyance and worry.

"And what about Ben and Chris?"

"Well Ben's off at Lilycove University as you know, your Father and I just visited him a few weeks ago. He's almost done his major in Environment and Pokémon Studies, and he's taking a few summer courses to boost his resume and work at the Safari Zone outside of town."

"Really? That's great! Are his pokémon doing well?"

"Just fine from what I've heard, they're really helping him out in his ranger duties. Those safari pokémon can get pretty crazy from time to time, at least that's what I hear. Swalbu's keeping an eye out for him from above while his Vulpix and Siskirt help him make his rounds without interference."

"Good to hear, I hope I can make a run out to see him while I'm home…by the way, you never mentioned Chris." James noted inquisitively.

"Oh, well sh-"

There was a noticeable creak outside the door, and James instinctively reached for the daggers strapped to his back – that were no longer there. Instead, turned to his mother and held a finger to his mouth, earning a raised eyebrow from her.

James walked slowly over to the door, where he heard two voices conversing in a hushed tone. Just before he grabbed the doorknob, it creaked toward him and through the crack a familiar soft face appeared.

"Hi Chris, long time no see!"

James' 18 year old sister nearly jumped in surprise, before opening the door fully and taking a step towards him so she could slug him as hard as she could in the shoulder.

James had to admit, it hurt a bit. "Moron! You nearly scared me out of my wits! What would you do if I fell back over the railing!" She near screamed, waving her hands frantically for emphasis.

"Damn sis, I missed you too! Jeez, what have you been doing, lifting weights? That hurt!" James responded, retreating his wounded shoulder and rubbing it for emphasis.

"Baby." She said, throwing her arms behind her head. "What are you doing here anyways, is mom home?"

"I'm here!" Came the response from the kitchen.

"Mom! You'll never guess what happened today!" Chris said excitedly, trying to close the door behind her.

James, however, was one step ahead of her.

Sliding his foot between the door, he stopped it from closing just enough to see the gurney ropes moving. He opened the door and was out on the platform before his sister could turn around, and looked down to see a young man on the gurney, almost halfway down already.

"Hey!" James called down, starting the guy who looked up at him. "Come on up here! We always welcome company!"

"Uh, umm…"

"Get up here! Don't make me come down there after ya, 'cause I will!" James joked, half-wondering if he could land a jump from this distance.

The guy started to protest again, but after a little encouragement resigned to his fate and came back up. Once he reached the top, James immediately shook hands with the young man, who looked to be no older than 18 himself.

"Hey there, good to meet ya! I'm James Martin, Chris' oldest brother." James said, extending a hand which the guy took nervously, but shook hard nevertheless.

"Uh, thanks. I'm Dustin Stinner, I go to Chris' school. O-or rather I did, since you know we graduated."

James nodded politely, taking in his appearance. _Well he had a strong handshake that's good…some mannerisms it seems….dressed a little sloppily, his shirts only half tucked in and those shorts look too baggy for him. What's with those weird sneakers though? And his hair's too long, it's nearly down to his shoulders…is that hair grease, or NATURAL grease? I wonder-_

A fist to the back of the shoulder shook him loose of his observation.

"James, you've met Dustin. He was going to help me study for my placement exams in liberal arts at the university before you arrived. After that he figured he would go home and let the family catch up." Chris responded coolly.

"Oh really?" James smiled, looking between the two.

"Really. Now stop being such a creeper, you just got home and already causing me trouble." Chris responded.

"Sure, sure, I'll lay off your boyfriend."

Chris' face went beet red in a second. "For the love of _GOD_ James, not every boy I bring home is my _BOYFRIEND!_!" Chris screamed, standing on her toes to make her as tall as possible; which was impressive, because at five foot eleven she was already four inches taller than James to begin with.

"Christina Ann Martin, do NOT take the Lord's name in vain in my presence!" His mother yelled harshly.

Chris rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm sorry. But he's still not my boyfriend, got it?"

"…but I think he is," James said, thumbing over to the equally flushed face of Dustin and the small, stupid smile plastered on his face.

Chris glared hard at him, and the smile faded instantly – along with all color in his face.

James walked up to the boy and put his arm around his shoulders. "Dustin, how about you and me ditch the girls and go have some fun for a bit? Chris is being too noisy and I think I'm losing my hearing." He said, rubbing his free hand's pinky in his ear.

"Uhh, I'm not su-"

"Oh that's a great idea! You two should go bond a little! I'll make dinner so the four of us can eat when you get back!" His mother said excitedly, rushing back inside to start cooking.

James smiled widely, partially because of his mothers support, partially because the look of pure horror on his sister's face was way too enjoyable.

"Oh! Let me get my stuff!" James said, running back inside and ruffling through his dufflebag. The confused looks on both teens face suddenly turned to pure terror as James returned with his full pokémon belt…along with a small rifle strapped to his back and three spare magazines clipped to his training vest.

"Alright, let's go!" James said, pushing the teen boy back onto the gurney before disappearing out of sight, ignoring the protests of his sister far above.

* * *

><p>"So, Dustin, ever shot one of these before?" James asked, knowing the answer already.<p>

The boy feverently shook his head no, so hard James thought it'd fall off from the force.

"Ok that's fine, first time for _every_thing."

The silence continued as the two walked, James leading the teen past the Maple Community and into the Fortree Forest. After coming to a small opening, James stopped and looked around, nodding to himself.

"This spot will do just fine." He said, more to himself then his shaking companion.

James checked the current magazine, and after reinserting it into the rife, he aimed the rifle at a large tree trunk that had fallen in the middle of the clearing. He adjusted the sights before turning towards his "partner".

"Alright, here's what you're going to do," James said, handing the rifle over to the teen. The guy looked terrified to take it, but after some encouragement shakily removed it from James' outstretched hands.

"Okay, which hand are you dominant with?"

"M-my right."

"Good, good. I'm a lefty myself, which will make shooting this gun a little awkward for you because it's custom-built for lefties like me, but you should be fine. This is a P-90 Assault Rifle, it's used in some branches of the military and is a fine, steady gun. It's small, so its rounds don't pack a whole lot of punch which is perfect for beginners like you. So first I'll set you up so you can aim properly, and then we'll start shooting. First one shot at a time, that's semi-auto, then we'll go to burst, which is three shots at a time, then for our last mag we'll go full auto. How's that sound?"

The boy looked terrified.

"Good! Now first your feet. You're always going to want to lean in to your gun a little when you're aiming, so take you're right foot and put it behind your left…no spread your feet out a little more…there! That's perfect! Now, point your front toes downrange, and leave your back toes pointed off to the side…there, that's good. Now, bring the gun up to your shoulder…no, right here, in that soft fleshy part. Yeah there! Now, keep the butt of your rifle against that at all times, otherwise it might hurt a little when you start firing. Now, see that scope at the front? I want you to press your cheek right up to the gun and look through that sight….No, your cheek has got to be _on_ the gun, you don't want that thing kicking up and catching you in the face, you'll have a nasty bruise that way…no, don't snug it _that _close either…there! There you go! Now lean forward a little…woah, easy there tiger, you're off balance like that! Just a little forward…yep, just like that!"

James was far too eager to see this stiff young teen fire that gun, because like all little boys with their first big toys, it really opened them up.

"Okay, now you see that big ugly mushroom on the side of that log? I want you to shoot it. Just aim down the sight and pull the trigger. Hang on not yet! Gotta make sure you're ready first…Okay, you look good to go, you ready! I'm releasing the safety, give me one sec…"

"HOT LINE! We've got fire on the line!" He yelled downrange, waiting a good five seconds and hearing nothing.

"Okay, you're good to go. Just slowly squeeze the trigger all the way back while aiming at the target."

The teen aimed, and James watched the muzzle spiral in a slow circle before a loud bang echoed, nearly sending the startled teen on his butt.

James shook his head. "Na, you missed man. See? The recoils not bad, it's just getting used to it."

The teen nodded, setting himself up again and aiming, this time more steadily. The teen fired, jerking much less this time as the round went wide again.

"That was better! Try exhaling when you fire, and don't finish pulling the trigger until you've breathed out all the way."

Bang.

"Nope, still breathing. Try again."

Bang.

"Damn, you were close, again."

Bang.

"You nicked it! You almost got it, one more shot!"

Bang.

This time, the top of the mushroom exploded, sending little chunks of the mess everywhere.

"Yeah alright, nice job!" James congratulated, happy to see the teens smiling face as well. He was starting to loosen up.

Two and a half magazine's later, and the two could've been old shooting buddies. Both were laughing and carrying on, talking about anything from sports to tv shows to school…and of course, girls.

"So what do you see in my sister man? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't go for that kind of thing, incest and all, but to me she doesn't seem that attractive…I mean she's not ugly by any means, but she's not exactly _well endowed_. And her personality…whew. She about kills me every chance she gets! Seriously, how do you even _stand_ her?" James asked, taking a puff of dope the boy _happened_ to have in his pocket.

The teen fired off the last half of the magazine in a blur of fire, blanketing the area in a hail of bullets before pausing and handing off the gun to James to change out the magazines, taking a puff of his own joint in the process.

"Ah I don't know…her temper is something fierce, but she has a gentler side too."

James scoffed, nearly losing his joint as he did so.

"Nah I'm serious. Get her all alone with you, and she's actually pretty timid. She has a lot of fears you know, especially about getting a job and not being poor and stuff. She's talked about you a lot, though she never mentioned you by name. Just a brother who was in the army or something always 'going off and playing hero' as she put it."

"Huh, no shit." James said thoughtfully, racking in the new magazine and checking to make sure it was secure.

"Yeah man, it's really easy to get close to her like that."

"'Easy'? Howso?"

"Well first you gotta be real with girls like her, tell them some of your own fears, like 'I'm afraid of the dark' or something. Even if it's stupid they'll laugh and feel better about it. That's when you get the chance to snuggle, and before you know it, boom! Makeout session!" The teen replied enthusiastically.

"Huh, I've never tried that…worth a shot I guess." James said, switching the firing mode to 'semi' and starting to aim down the sights.

"Yeah, a cool due like you, having fears? Girls eat that shit up. You could totally pull it off!"

"Yeah I'll bet. Have you ever…you know…gone all the way?"

The kid smiled warily, rubbing the back of his head.

_Bingo._ "Nah, not really…"

James looked up from his sights to raise an eyebrow at him. "What do ya mean, not really? You either have or you haven't man."

The teen looked downrange a bit, avoiding James' eyes. "Well, I mean I have, but with another girl, not your sister. I broke up with her a while ago though, found out she was cheating on me-"

_I'll bet._

"-but I haven't with your sister yet. She's been a little resistant, keeps saying she's a virgin and she wants to stay that way until marriage since everyone else lost it pretty much. I've been trying to tell her it's no big deal-"

_Like hell it ain't._

"-but she's a tough one."

_Good girl._

"I think tonight might've been the night though, but oh well we can wait till later. There'll always be another chance, and this shit was just plain fun. I never knew her older brother was this cool." Dustin smiled widely, which James returned with an equally wide smile for an entirely different reason.

"Well Dustin I'm glad you had fun. You seemed a little tight when I first met you, but you really loosened up."

"Yeah, well I gotta admit, your sis said you would rail me, give me the whole 30 questions, like about my birthdate, my police record, where I live and all that stuff. Fuck was she wrong."

"Yeah, she was a bit." James said, and they both shared a little laugh.

"Now, here's the deal Dustin," James said, taking out his near-extinguished joint. "There will be a few rules about you dating my sister, but since you're a cool dude I'll keep it short and simple and be easy on ya." He said, smiling. Dustin smiled back, nodding as if he didn't have a clue as to what was coming next.

"Rule number one," James placed the joint on a stump in front of him, waiting to make sure that Dustin was watching before pointing his muzzle at it and blowing the joint to kingdom come. "No pot."

Dustin opened his mouth-

"Rule number two," James said, pointing out a card on the far end of the log that James had set up in the middle of their fun. James fired twice, hitting the card twice before it tumbled out of sight. "No sex. Anal, oral, vaginal, caressing, touching, et cetera. Period."

"Rule number three," Not waiting for a reaction, James switched over to a three-round-burst and fired twice, peppering a knot in the hole of the log. "Dress properly. I won't have my sister date a slob. Use those mannerisms with a good appearance man, trim up your hair, either tuck your t-shirt in or leave it out, and for the love of God don't let your boxers hang out. On purpose _or_ otherwise."

"And finally rule number four," James said with finality, picking out a small pincone hanging on a tree-branch far above them. James hesitated before taking the shot, nailing the branch it was attached to and sending the pinecone tumbling into the open field. Before it hit the ground James fired again, and the pinecone exploded.

"That, is what'll happen to your nuts if you break rule number two. Any questions?"

James got a certain satisfaction from seeing the boy turn tail and run as fast as he could.

When he was out of sight James whistled, and from behind a bush came James' Umbreon Lune.

"I missed that last shot didn't I?" Lune smirked as wide as an Umbreon could while nodding.

"Umbre," he said, pointing his head towards the sky.

James raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I thought I had that one."

Lune shook his head, nodding up towards the sky again.

"_Sigh_…damn I need more practice. It's a good thing I taught you psychic," he said, before turning and calling out targets as he fired off the last of his rounds.

* * *

><p>"Look Chris I said I was sorry. Your boyfriend told me he was just coming over to break up with you and that's it. I swear."<p>

"You lying bastard." Christina spat, sitting at the far end of the table and looking everywhere but at him.

James sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day, knowing he wasn't going to hear the end of it.

"Oh come on now Christina, you're brother's just looking out for you," his mother sighed, brewing up something fierce a little ways away. James' stomach growled his approval.

"But MOM! Between him and dad I'll always be single!"

"Who will always be single?" Came the reply from the door, and a second later a stout older man entered the humble abode.

James' father was Wesley Martin, a man who looked every bit his age of fifty-six. Being of five-foot-six height himself, Wesley still had a strong build for his age, which was offset by his noticeable beer-belly, which ironically had nothing to do with alcohol consumption. His hair, long gone from the top of his head, had a mix brown and grey sheen to it while his dull-grey eyes shined just as brightly as they did in his youth. Indeed the man was a living contrast, seemingly possessing qualities from several different walks of life all in one body. And his personal love for hobbies, toys, and 'Secret Base' décor gave him the job he always wanted and his kids – even if they didn't always admit it – always found enjoyment out of as well.

The man scanned the room before his eyes fell on James, and James rose to meet his father's handshake followed by a strong hug.

"Good to see you good to see you son! When did you get back, you should've let us known!"

"Just this afternoon dad, I didn't really have time to give you a heads up or I would've."

"Well we're all just happy to have you. Honey, did you make something special for us tonight?"

"Of course I did! It's something we haven't had in a while, and _always_ does a good job of cheering up a _certain someone _when they're upset." James' mother said from behind the counter, winking at Christina who just rolled her eyes.

"Good good, so what're you doing back in town James? I thought you were still in training for this new position or something. And before I forget, who's single now?...Or has been? I admit I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment, the shop was surprisingly busy today." James' dad said, taking a seat across from James with his back to the door.

"Well, I'll hold off on my story because it's not that interesting…but as far as who's single," James began before nodding over to the far table, "she is. Well, again anyways." Chris stuck out her tongue at James, looking at him for the first time since he returned.

"Really?" Wesley said, looking seriously between Christina and James.

"Yes really! It's the first boyfriend I've had in months thanks to your last performance _dad_, and just as I was bringing him home to introduce to the family _James _whisks him away and comes back without him! He probably shot him in the woods or something…"

"I did not! He ran off on his own!" James protested.

_And let's not forget you were hoping no one was home…_

"Really? What happened?" His dad asked.

"I took him out to the woods for some man talk, that's all! We started taking turns shooting while chatting, and before I know it he's gone!"

"Did you ask him a lot of questions?"

"Yes, but only normal ones! What were his ambitions, likes, dislikes, what plans he had with sis, why he liked her, and that's about it!" James spouted. It _was _the truth afterall.

Christina huffed, "yeah, and then I bet you laid down a list of rules or something like _he_ did the last three times!" She angrily replied pointing a long finger at dad.

His dad turned to him seriously. "Did you?"

"Yep."

"I KNEW IT! I bet it was an enormous list that he couldn't possibly hope to fulfill-"

"It was not! It was three rules! Three! Well, technically four, but still th-"

"Okay okay I've heard enough of the squabbling in there." His mother said, raising her voice above the chatter.

"Sorry." The group muttered, before returning to the fight once more – voices in check this time.

"So what were these three rules?"

"Yeah, _what were they_? I wanna here this too." Christina replied, Getting up from the far end of the table to sit at the near end.

"Okay, rule number 1, no pot, weed, or any other drugs."

Christina raised her eyebrow, and their father nodded understandingly.

"Okay, fine that's an alright one I guess…but Dustin didn't smoke-"

James had the small pouch he snuck off the boy in the air before the sentence was finished.

And his mother left a sizable welt upon the back of his head with the flick of her towel in the next instant.

"James Christopher Martin! You know better than to smoke weed, much less bring the stuff into my house!"

"Mom! It was only one joint and I didn't inhale it! It was all a ploy to get the brat to open up-OW!" Another smack silenced his protest.

"'Didn't inhale' my ass! That's what our President said once and look who believed him!"

_Actually quite a few peop-"OW! _Damn it mom that really hurts!" A fourth smack from behind silenced him for good.

"And that one's for cursing at your mother." His father replied, retreating his own hand.

Knowing he had lost the fight, James sighed and grabbed the bag. "I'll just dump it outside…"

As he got up, his mother curled up the towel one last time and caught him right on the ass.

"What was _that_ one for?"

"For protecting your sister," she said with a smile, and James honestly didn't know – and probably didn't want to know – what that smile meant.

After returning from outside, James found the table set and everyone waiting for him.

James reclaimed his seat, though his father and sister had switched places and his mother sat to his left now. After a few apologies and blessings, the family ate heartily, dining on marinated Remoraid with beans, vegetables, and homemade garlic bread. The conversation was light at first, but soon enough the family was laughing and carrying on, without a care in the world it seemed. Finally, the topic turned to James' reason for being there, and as he had told his mother earlier he once again recounted his tale, leaving out what he couldn't say.

Afterwards the family was silent.

James stirred his plate, unable to finish the few vegetables left on his plate. Not that he didn't like them, but more that he felt eating them might be a bad idea for his stomach.

"So, you don't know when this hearing will be yet? Do you know what'll happen?" His dad asked.

"Nope, my guess is probably a demotion, though I can't say for sure. I doubt they'd kick me out, but I've been wrong before."

"I doubt it too. With Shinnoh openly building up their military forces and the Small Nations Alliance suffering from the loss of Orre to insurgency, Hoenn can't really expect to get rid of everyone in our own Armed Forces." His mother replied thoughtfully.

"Yeah I guess…anyways, if it's alright with you I'd like to stop talking about it for now." James' mom, dad and sister all nodded in understanding.

"Well I'm sure you'd like to get to bed. Don't worry about cleanup your dad can handle it. Would you like to sleep in the bedrooms or the hut?"

The 'hut' was a small little clubhouse that James, his father and younger brother Ben had built when they were young, as a sort of "clubhouse" for the kids to play in. It was only one room and was located below the actual bedrooms, which was two separate rooms built inside the tree itself much like their living room was. The clubhouse, though, was built as an attachment to the outside of the tree. Though it was small, it had a bunkbed, table, a few suitcases for dressers and even a mini-fridge and microwave, the only downside being that you had to use the gurney on the 'Bedroom tree' to get to it. Most of it was from when Ben and James were kicked out of the second bedroom by their sister, who wanted a room to herself for her 12th birthday. Ben and James didn't mind though, because that gave them an excuse to kick her out of the hut, which started a sibling rivalry that never really died down.

"I'll stay in the hut mom. It'd be too crowded and weird in the bedrooms."

"Okay well be careful getting down there, your father's been working on it but the gurney especially is a little shaky. Keep your stuff up here for the time being, and you know where the shower-house and bathroom are."

James nodded, and excused himself from the table before heading off to bed.

James lay awake, listening to the sway of the branches high above him as he failed to sleep a wink. The clock on the wall read 3:20pm, though James knew this clock hadn't been set right and was off by a long shot. Sighing, he turned to the sleeping form next to him. Flash, his Pikachu, slept like a rock, curled up in a small ball on the pillow next to him. Tilting his head up towards the foot of the bed, James met the eyes of Lune, his Umbreon. Lune usually didn't sleep at night, as his internal clock made him very crabby in the daytime, even if he was fully awake. However, that didn't mean the Dark Pokémon wasn't resting, and indeed his eyes were open but not fully aware of his surroundings. James looked up, staring at the box-spring of the bunk above him. On top he knew were Quil, his Quilava, Allei, his Altaria, and Ace, his Swellow. All three pokémon were indeed his first three, with Allei being his first-ever pokémon caught right in Fortree, and Swellow soon after in Petalburg. Quil he obtained when he went through the Jhoto Empire, or Jhoto Region as it was commonly called.

He had travelled absentmindedly his first half-year before deciding to see the world, but after competing in the Jhoto Gym Challenge, James grew homesick and left before he could beat Morty of the Eckruteak Gym. After coming home he competed in the Hoenn Gym Challenge, and quickly earned the right to challenge the Pokémon League in Ever Grande. James fell in the second round that first year, but through determination he grew stronger, adding Eevee to his team after receiving an egg from the Daycare Man and Lady for working hard that summer at the Breeding Center to earn a wage. He made it to the fourth round that year, and he was only fifteen by then. Soon after, he added his sixth and final pokémon to his roster.

James looked over the side of the bed to watch the rise and fall of his Flygon's chest, Yena. Indeed, she was the most stubborn pokémon James had ever met, and even as a Trapinch she was a handful. Always fighting him, always rushing off, always impatient…and yet, she was the most loyal pokémon he had without a doubt. True, all his pokémon were loyal and dedicated to him – and vice versa – but Yena…Yena just had a special bit of determination about her. He could never understand that for all the heartache she gave him, she fought the hardest for him. That's what earned him his eighth-place finish two years in a row when he was seventeen and eighteen in the Hoenn League competition, his greatest accomplishment. For James that wasn't enough though, at least to live on. Working at the Breeding Center in the off-season was a good job and he learned a lot about pokémon habits, quirks, personalities and more…but it wasn't ever enough. So at the age of eighteen he entered the Air Force, and from then on he never looked back.

James felt his eyes close as he recounted the hardships of boot camp. Of training. Of tiring himself day in and out, right alongside his pokémon.

Indeed, James considered himself lucky he had such good friends as these.


End file.
